


Real Life

by LittleAprilFlowers



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Antivan Pet Names, First Time, M/M, Online Gaming AU, World of Thedas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:34:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleAprilFlowers/pseuds/LittleAprilFlowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the craziest of coincidences, Alistair discovers that one of his online friends is a lot closer to home than he might have first imagined.</p><p>Just a one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Life

During the day, Alistair Theirin is just an ordinary sales assistant in a hardware store. He is well liked by his colleagues, and a favourite of the sweet old ladies that come in for their retired husband’s DIY escapades. Eternally sympathetic and endearingly eager to please his customers, Alistair is always ready with a catalogue or a cup of tea or a stepladder, even if he is slightly infamous for being occasionally clumsy or forgetting his lefts and rights.

  
But by night, Alistair becomes a legendary warrior known as a Grey Warden in the online RPG Heroes of Thedas. Illuminated solely by his computer screen, with his huge dog curled toasty warm around his ankles, he spends many an hour fighting demons and dragons with his small ragtag group of fellow explorers. One of his most enduring friendships is with a man he only knows as Crow_Zee, an elven assassin with an extravagant dark cape capped with a large bird skull. Alistair’s own character looks practically like himself, only decked out in silver and blue armour that glows when he’s playing at his best, and his username Prince_Ali hovering over his head. He often wonders if the others resemble their avatars as closely. Just recently he bought a headset so he could live chat with his teammates, and somehow he hadn’t been surprised to hear that Crow_Zee was Antivan despite having never shared a spoken word before. The playful banter between them often inspires jibes, but neither ‘Zee’ nor ‘Ali’ seem to mind.

  
Having been thinking back on the previous night’s antics whilst raiding a den of virtual slavers, when once again they had proved to be a capable and close knit team, Alistair’s gaze roves absently across the shop window in front of him. Christmas is coming on fast and he still has a few presents to buy yet – not that he knows many people to buy gifts for, but he wants to make an effort for those he does.

  
His preoccupation means he fails to notice the man sat outside the café across the road at first. Reflected in the shopfront glass, his image is distorted, and yet Alistair finds himself staring hard at that same spot without turning around straight away after it has caught his eye. That blonde hair, pointed ears, and a tattoo across the cheek which he knows well.

  
No. It can’t be.

  
Alistair dares to turn, and suddenly his heart is in his throat. It’s him. It’s Crow_Zee, actually in the flesh, outside the café where Alistair himself has often sat for a break. What are the odds of him living in the same city, coming to the same places, and simultaneously being randomly recruited into the same team on a game played by millions of people around the world? And having a character with an almost scary likeness to himself?

  
For chances like these, something celestial had to be at work, and Alistair wasn’t about to miss out on this moment of a lifetime.

  
He draws in a breath to steel himself and marches straight across the quiet road to the café. At first the other man is too distracted by his laptop to look up, tapping away furiously with a stern look of concentration as he focuses on whatever it is which occupies him. It’s not entirely dissimilar to the expression his character pulls during a battle, Alistair ponders. This is almost too spooky for him to process. He clears his throat, and intrigued golden eyes meet his.

  
“Uhm, hello.” he begins, his nerves instantaneously apparent in his tone and body language, “This is going to sound really, really strange but—“

  
“ _Santa merda!_ ” the elf responds in a pleasant and wonderfully familiar voice, grinning broadly in surprise, “Is it truly you, my friend?”

  
Alistair’s heart flutters nervously as a light pink blush frames his bright smile in response. Something in his head tells him there’s no way he can walk away with his found online friend without screwing this up somehow, but they know each other already, right? So what could possibly go wrong?

  
***

  
Maker above, his velvety laugh is just beyond amazing in person. It’s a laugh Alistair knows well by now, one which he has heard through his headset many times before, but the tinny echo of the cheap earphones he wore when gaming could never do justice the warmth and smoothness of Zee’s – or rather Zevran’s – voice.

  
“I couldn’t believe your nerve, just waltzing up to me in the middle of nowhere, agreeing to a duel after the bounty was placed on your head.” Zevran recalls the fateful moment where their characters first met in Heroes of Thedas, in a lonely field ravaged by the darkspawn, creatures which Grey Wardens like Alistair were sworn to eradicate.

  
“Well, you were the only one that bid for me.” Alistair points out, “Not to brag but most people had more sense than to go up against a level 47 Warden, the infamous mage WildsWitch, and the golem PigeonH8R, alone.”

  
“I wasn’t entirely alone.” Zevran protests.

  
“NPC mercenaries don’t count.”

  
The elf sighs, leaning back in his chair and raising his hands in defeat. There’s something about this man which makes Alistair all weird and tingly inside. He’s never felt like this around another guy before, or around anyone ever now he thinks about it. And he kind of likes it when he isn’t sure that he should.

  
“I admit it was a hasty acceptance of the contract.” Zevran relents, “But there were these most handsome leather boots on limited edition sale at the elven market, and I couldn’t resist them. They would have perfectly matched the armour I was wearing at the time. But I was low on gold, and I’ve taken on lower level Wardens many times before. A contract for 50 gold just for killing one Warden? How could I turn that down?”

  
“Because of the serious possibility of having your arse handed to you coming true?” Alistair snorts, revelling in being able to have their usual party banter face to face. There was something wonderfully refreshing about seeing this person in front of him who he felt he knew so well when they had met for the first time only half an hour or so before.

  
They chat idly for longer than it feels like they do. Eventually the tired café staff have to usher them away politely where the pair of them have been hogging the seats out front for too long, despite their mugs having been sat drained of coffee for ages, and that it is actually now starting to get dark.

  
Somehow it is natural for Alistair to readily agree to go back to Zevran’s with him. He expected that they would relax, maybe watch some TV, maybe talk more about Heroes of Thedas.

***

What Alistair hadn’t quite expected to end up doing was kissing Zevran. He certainly could not have anticipated the hands on his chest, wonderfully warm through his t-shirt, the ones which push him back into the sofa cushions as Zevran clambers into his lap and plunders his mouth with his tongue that tastes of cheap beer. As if gifted with a mind of their own, Alistair’s hands creep under the fabric of Zevran’s shirt to feel out his lean abdominal muscles beneath tanned skin. Alistair also could never have predicted how quickly this was getting him worked up.

“This is not too fast for you, is it?” Zevran checks, drawing back, sensing the growing tension in his shoulders and the apprehension in his returned kisses. It takes Alistair a beat to regain his breath, and for his train of thought to actually register the question.

  
“What? No, no, it’s just this is new to me. Well, not completely new. I’ve kissed people, but…”

  
“Not a man?”

  
“I’ve kissed only one other man before. It wasn’t that serious.” Alistair admits, and somehow the innocent blush Zevran finds incredibly endearing darkens a further shade of pink at the revelation. “Just friendly experimenting, you know? Curiosity. This, on the other hand… This is something I might actually want to take further.”

  
“How far have you been exactly in the broad spectrum of things?”

  
“With a woman? I’ve never actually been all the way, as it were.” Alistair says. He looks away, greatly embarrassed. If anything else screamed of his content existence as an introverted loner nerd, his determinedly intact virginity would be the central bane of it.

  
But Zevran does not laugh like Alistair half expects him to. There is no judgemental tutting, no mocking cough, no backing away to abandon him in his shame. Instead a hand rises to tenderly cup Alistair’s cheek and turn him back to face Zevran, and a wonderfully fond smile pulls at his mouth, his lips slightly swollen from the eager kisses and occasional nips of teeth which they had revelled in only moments before.

  
“I will be a patient teacher, rest assured.” He sympathises, “If there is anything I initiate that you do not wish to do then tell me so immediately. Is that acceptable?”

  
Alistair can only nod. It’s happening. It’s really happening, with a person he had only vainly hoped he would ever meet in person. He feels like he is stood on a precipice and that one false step will plummet him into an eternal pit of loneliness. A tidal wave of panic embodies itself in a further quickened heart rate and sweat beading on his ruddy forehead, yet the storm fades away when Zevran kisses him again, the rapids soothed as gentle hands caress his cheeks and shoulders. Muscles go slack as Alistair allows himself to sink into the comforting ebb and flow of their intimacy.

  
***

  
They take their time. Clothes drop away at a languid pace as both men get to know each other’s bodies. Pale hands trace over a dark abdomen following the black lines of tattoos, freckled arms encircle a slim torso, hands tug at short hair with approval, and a certain touch here and there elicits the sweetest of gasps. Not a moment is wasted.

  
Finally, after what feels like hours of exploration, Alistair and Zevran lie naked, both hard and wanting. Their kisses become hungrier and more desperate, two bodies grinding together messily. Alistair is particularly vocal as Zevran ruts into his hip, the slide of warmed lube against his own cock yanking a delighted groan from his lips as Zevran bites his bottom lip sharply. His arms are pinned above his head with one hand, and another moves to grasps both of them together, slick and firm with want. His hips twitch as Zevran jointly fists them both, beginning at a pace to tease their already-sensitive hardness. Alistair complains for more, but Zevran laughs and only shushes him with more kisses as he slows down even more.

  
“Bastard.” Alistair mutters, trying to sound bitter when his voice is an octave or two higher than usual. It isn’t entirely convincing.

  
“I’ll give you what you want soon, _mio caro_ , just have a little patience.” Zevran chuckles back, the lilt of his accent and the words of his native tongue doing something to Alistair he can’t even comprehend. Speaking Antivan is fast becoming his equivalent of talking dirty, with all the breathless curses and fond names the other man has used as they have experimented together driving him more than a little crazy.

  
A squeeze of the hand around his cock snaps Alistair’s mind and eyes away from Zevran’s mouth back to his groin, and he groans delightedly at the slip and slide of them moving in slightly clumsy unison. This is sinfully good, and he simultaneously wants to get there and yet never wants it to end. Maker, how could he have lasted so long without experiencing this?

  
With an eager mouth on his as they writhe and share breath, Zevran asks Alistair what it is that he does want exactly. “Perhaps you would prefer to fuck me? That might be more natural for you, as it were?” he offers. But Alistair decides there and then, despite the fact they had only physically met a handful of hours ago, that he trusts him enough to ask.

  
“No, Zevran. I… I want you to fuck me. Please.” He adds quickly.

They slow, Zevran grinning so widely and delightedly that it makes Alistair’s heart ache wonderfully. He has fallen, and fallen hard and fast for this charming soul. More lube is fetched, squirted onto and warmed by Zevran’s hands as Alistair lays back and watches with nervous anticipation. His body twinges with just the thought of this happening.

  
“On your hands and knees, perhaps?” Zevran offers, “Though admittedly I would enjoy to see your sweet handsome face as I prepare you for my cock.”

  
“Like this. On my back. I want to see you too.” Alistair agrees, and reaches out for him. They begin to take their time again, the soft pads of slicked fingertips only teasing his hole at first before one is pressed in, shallow and careful, allowing for a while to adjust as Alistair instantly tenses around the intrusion. A short gasp leaves his lips which is instantly swallowed by more soothing kisses. As Zevran pulls back he pushes deeper. Soon Alistair takes two fingers, moaning softly and starting to arch into the faintly sore but pleasant sensation of being stretched in this way.

  
Soon Alistair becomes impatient. At this Zevran fails to hide his amusement, positioning himself between the other’s legs and lifting his hips with surprising ease into his lap.

  
“Are you ready for me?” He asks, stroking down his sides with a faint scrape of nails that makes Alistair shiver. He can only nod in response, and Zevran lubes himself before slowly pushing in. There is silence as Alistair takes him, stunned by the thought that he has another inside of him, and how good it feels. He never could have imagined this.

  
Sharp golden eyes meet his, and another gentle kiss draws him out of the shock he’d slipped into. “Are you alright, _tesorino_?”  
Alistair nods, even moves back to encourage Zevran with a shy but cheeky smile. Encouraged by their shared comfort, Zevran begins to roll his hips slowly. They move easily, well slicked and prepared. Alistair reaches up and brings Zevran’s head down to rest against his. They stare intensely into each other’s eyes, the only sound the panting of their shared breaths as Zevran fucks him deeper, enticing occasional little whimpers from the man beneath him.

  
But soon it is too much. The tenderness is replaced with urgency, and Zevran draws back to rock more forcefully, bottoming out inside Alistair repeatedly. Both of them cry out curses and words less intelligible for a short time until Zevran comes, fast and vocally. At the feeling of his cock pulsing with seed Alistair’s head falls back, and Zevran takes him in his hand to fist him until he comes too, thick seed sliding along his stomach as it heaves with heavy breath. Once they have both recovered, Zevran withdraws, flopping down onto the bed boneless, instantly snuggling to Alistair’s side.

  
“How was that?” he murmurs into Alistair's cheek, grinning incredibly smugly when Alistair has to take a moment to reply, his head spinning as he drops down from the high of climax.

  
“That was fucking amazing.” Alistair announces bluntly, and then giggles at the admittance of it. Because it really was. It hurt a little at times, true, but it was definitely worth it. And he doesn’t ask yet, but he sincerely hopes it will happen again very soon.


End file.
